8. Ryker
CHAPTER EIGHT
RYKER
NOW
These fuckers are strong, but they’re allowing their emotions to power every shove, and that makes them easy to slow down.
“Move!” Ronan grunts, his eyes frantic as he watches Chloe flee from the apartment.
The little I know of their relationship almost has me feeling bad for the guy, but he helped to hurt her. Whether it was indirectly or not, he’s just as responsible for her pain as his father and brother, which means he’s not getting anywhere near my girl.
Fuck.
I have to stop thinking of her like that.
Maybe it’s time I request to be reassigned.
Even as the thought enters my mind, I’m shaking it off. I can’t leave her unprotected, especially now that the ghosts of her past have returned.
She needs me more than ever, and I refuse to leave her in harm’s way just because I feel more for her than I should.
“No,” I say easily, shoving Damon back when he tries to dodge around me.
I should have told her to leave without me. If she heads back to the De Marco estate at least, she’ll be behind a wall of security, but she’s in no shape to drive right now, and keeping her safe sometimes means protecting her from herself.
Cool metal presses to my temple, and it takes less than a second to recognize it as the barrel of a gun.
But I don’t flinch.
This is hardly the first time someone has held me at gunpoint, and I doubt it will be the last.
You accumulate a lot of enemies in my line of work, and there’s a certain thrill one can only get from your life being in the hands of someone that loathes your existence.
“Move,” Damon growls, pressing the weapon against my temple harder.
“No.” I smirk.
“Are you fucking stupid?” he snaps.
“No. But I take my job as Chloe’s bodyguard very seriously, and whatever you’re threatening me with sounds significantly less painful than Camilla De Marco’s wrath.” I shrug.
The five-foot nothing spitfire who wrangled the most ruthless men in the country is far more intimidating than these two pompous fuckers could ever be.
They think because they’re the spawn of Salvatore Lombardi that they automatically reserve the right to his reputation, but neither of them has done anything even remotely notable enough to be in their father’s league.
There are few men in this world that are as unfeeling as Daddy Lombardi, but it seems the apple fell far from the tree with these two assholes.
What did Chloe ever see in either of them?
Kaos snickers behind me because he knows better than most what his woman can do with a knife. If this assignment has given me nothing else, it’s a healthy amount of gossip about the love life of the Syndicate.
I glance between them, my posture relaxed and bored.
I need to get out of here and get Chloe home before she does something stupid like run. The safest place in the world for her right now is with me, and I won’t hesitate to lock her up if that’s what it comes to.
“As fun as this has been, I have better things to do than measure dicks with the likes of you. So if you’ll excuse me.” I step back, keeping a close eye on Damon’s finger hovering over the trigger.
I may not be scared of him shooting me, but I’m also not a fucking idiot. Being shot in the face is hardly my idea of a good time.
“You’re not taking Chloe anywhere,” Damon barks, stepping forward with the gun raised.
Kaos sighs, producing his own weapon and holding it to Ronan’s head. “Take care of Chloe. We’ll keep you both updated about Camilla and Crew.”
He nods to me, and I take another step back, watching the brothers closely.
It’s not until I’m halfway down the stairs that I allow my mask of indifference to drop, and by the time I make it to Chloe’s car, I have a new one in place. The life I live requires me to be a master of disguise in so many ways, and that includes my personality and demeanor.
I pull the spare key to Chloe’s car from my pocket and unlock the door, hoping she doesn’t have any follow-up questions about why or how I have it.
Opening the door as quietly as I can manage so I don’t startle her, I crouch beside her, carefully running a hand down her arm.
“Chloe?” I murmur, but she doesn’t respond. She’s lost in her own mind, her breathing coming in choppy and broken as tears stream down her cheeks.
Maybe I should have asked Kaos to pull the trigger upstairs, because this reaction isn’t that of a broken heart.
This is pure fear.
An emotion I normally get off on, but on her, it makes my chest ache in a way it never has before.
Fuck.
I really need to request another assignment. Even if it’s just for a week or two to get my head on straight, to refocus my attention off the woman who has become the center of my universe.
Maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve killed someone.
Yeah. That’s probably it.
I’ll ask the boss to assign someone else to Chloe’s detail for a few days so I can hunt down someone who deserves to hurt, and by the time I make it back to her, my mind will be clear of this little crush I’m developing.
I glance around at the quiet street. I need to get her out of here before one of those assholes makes it past Kaos.
Reaching into the car, I carefully pry her fingers from the steering wheel, giving me a better view of her face. The red splotches on her cheeks and chest are all the evidence of how distraught she is, but I can’t do anything about that here.
Once we’re back at the estate, we can deal with her emotions. Until then, her safety needs to be my primary focus.
“Siren.” The nickname slips out for the second time today, but not even that pulls her from her own mind.
She’s shutting down, and I don’t know how to help her.
This shit is outside my wheelhouse.
I sigh and weave my fingers through her soft auburn hair the way I’ve dreamt of. Dragging my fingertips along her scalp, I carefully tug, guiding her until her bloodshot eyes settle on my face.
The dejection in her gaze, the pure heartbreak staring back at me, stirs the protective instincts that seem to be reserved for her and her alone.
Objectively I care about my parents and my siblings, but this is different.
Primal even.
I shake off the thought and brush the tears from Chloe’s cheek. “I know you’re hurting, but we need to get out of here, okay?”
She stares back at me for so long I wonder if she heard me at all, but eventually she nods as much as my grip on her hair will allow.
“Good girl,” I murmur. “Can you climb into the passenger seat for me?”
Her mouth opens like she might argue, might insist on driving herself, but her lips fall closed without a word.
Either she realizes there’s no point in arguing, or she doesn’t have the energy. Either way, a win is a win.
Chloe pries her other hand from the steering wheel and glances over at the passenger seat, mentally preparing herself to relocate, but when she doesn’t make a move, I take matters into my own hands.
With a quick glance around the street to make sure asshole one and two haven’t appeared, I slide one hand behind her knees and relocate the one I had threaded through her hair to around her shoulders, carefully lifting her from the driver’s seat.
Striding around the front of the car, I keep my head on a swivel, constantly looking for the dangers lurking in the shadows.
I reposition Chloe in my arms so I can open the door, and then carefully lower her into the seat.
She reaches for the seat belt, but I take matters into my own hands, guiding the strap around her and clipping it into place. I tell myself it’s because she’s trembling like a leaf, but even I can’t lie to myself well enough to swallow that mistruth.
I do it because my mind screams at me to take care of her, to make sure she’s safe, and that’s a reality I’m not ready to face just yet.
Not least of all because falling for Chloe is a one-way trip to my own grave.